


Let Me Loose My Heart

by cryptidsarereal



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, Death, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Langst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multiverse, Pain, Sex, Softcore Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Terminal Illnesses, basically dragged every clangs out there and dragged them here, klangst, … i’m a horrible monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidsarereal/pseuds/cryptidsarereal
Summary: Keith would die to save Lance in every lifetime.





	Let Me Loose My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song ‘In the Dark’ by Matt Woods.
> 
> Check it out for maximum angst.

 

The first time it happened, he was eight. Or at least as far as he could remember.

Keith loved fishing with his Dad. Loved that they didn’t catch fish as much as they studied them. Other fishermen scoffed at them as they passed by with their honking boats, big noisy engines and bells, the insolent lot.

He knew what insolent meant by then, he’s eight, he’s read a book. He listened at the top of the staircase when the adults wants to have adult-talk with other adults, and tell off how un-adult-y they are being. He heard insolent from his mother’s parents.

The ocean was the best thing, it was always the best thing. Every weekend was the ocean-thing and it was the best thing. Best-er than his stupid school with his stupid classmates, who thinks playing with his hair was a funny thing. Because it’s too black. It’s my genes, idiots. They think people chugging down cinnamon is funny. Idiots.

Ocean didn’t have adults to tell him off for saying ‘idiots’ about his classmates.

Dad laughed at him when he said this, messed up his already messed up hair.

“There’s no kids or grown-ups in the ocean, buddy, we’re all sailors in the water.”

He wasn’t about to wheedle in getting a hand at the steering wheel, if they were all sailors. His Dad wrinkled his nose at the thought of ‘grown-ups’ and that was enough.

Turned out, Keith did get a hand at the steering wheel.

The waves were beginning to toss at them, the sun already winking out at the horizon. Dad had been looking curiously, unblinkingly, into the waves— that Keith had worried he had somehow gotten sick. Like the way Mom just stops rigid.

But then his Dad started suddenly— startling him too— and ushered Keith into the hull of their little boat.

“You’ve seen Dad keep the boat on one place, right son?”

“Y- yes.”

“I want you to do the same for a little while…” He yanked a bright orange life vest over his shoulders. “Daddy’s gonna check something in the water, and I want you to keep it in place like I do when we catch fish. Can you do that?”

Keith was about to argue that they don’t really ‘catch’ fish, but it didn’t seem like a good time. He nodded nervously instead. He’d been wanting to do it for a long while, but to be handed a responsibility abruptly was heart-racing.

Dad must’ve caught on it because he bent down and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re all sailors in the water, remember?”

“Yes.”

And he told himself that, as his Dad jumped off board and disappeared into the waves.

He told himself that. Over and over, until the last light of the sun was almost gone. Until the bumping of the tide on the wooden planks started imprinting in his ears.

He started whispering it out loud, when minutes ticked by…

Until finally his Dad’s head popped out of the water and laboriously waded back. Keith couldn’t see why but when his Dad grabbed the side of the boat to haul himself into it, another head peeked out from underneath his shoulder.

A boy just about his age flopped lifelessly unto the polished floor. He was thin, skin a sickly shade of tan, brown hair pressed wetly on his lolling head. He looked…

“Keith!” His dad’s sharp voice cut him out of his daze. “Get some towels, quick!”

He looked back at the wheel uncertainly. “But the…”

“That’s okay for now, you can leave it. I need the towels please!”

Stumbling back into the cabin, he almost forgot where they put the towels before he remembered with a great shake of his head. Dad knew what he’s doing.

When he got back to the deck, his dad was giving CPR to the boy and Keith stood back unsurely. Wondered where the boy had come from. Willed that frail chest to breathe.

‘Breathe already!’ He clutched at the thick bundle in his arms.

It took a long while, and Dad almost gave up— he knows it, but then water started trickling out of those frighteningly blue lips, that progressed to full on spluttering and coughs. And just like that— he’s breathing. He’s alive!

Keith felt an overwhelming sense of joy.

His dad took off the boy’s clothes leaving his boxers, wrapped him up in a huge towel almost burying him until only the top of his head could be seen, and carried him into the cabin where it’s warmer.

Left alone, bewildered and stupefied, Keith picked up the boy’s clothes— not really finding anything else he could help out with. A blue shirt with a faded cartoonish print and cargo pants. He placed them neatly on a hanging bar, just in case their owner wanted them back.

 

 

“I’m sorry we have to cut our trip short, buddy, I’ll just have to make it up to you next weekend.”

Next weekend.

Next weekend was a long time.

He nodded sullenly, and asked the ocean if he’s allowed to get angry for this. But a quick look at the unconscious body underneath the white sheets and he knew he can’t.

So he nodded again, more surely this time. “It’s okay, we always have the weekends.”

Dad nodded proudly at him, and Keith thought— felt like a grown up. Not that it matters in the sea.

“Stay with our little friend for tonight. We’re not making a stop until morning, we’d be at the main island by then. Maybe he’ll find his parents there.”

“Okay.” He said.

Dad was always so sure.

Short puffs of breath filled the silence in their bunker when his dad went back to the flying bridge. The boy shifted fitfully, an arm appearing from underneath the blanket, but didn’t move more than the small shifts of his brow as he puffed another air out.

It didn’t feel right.

The white sheets, the limp arm, the short breaths.

It reminded him too much of death.

He reached out to touch the small hand and wasn’t surprised to find it ice cold. They were always ice cold.

In an unconscious habit, he put the hand between his and started rubbing some warmth into them. Hated how this was always the only thing he could do to help, it was always only in the little things that he could help.

Suddenly, the hand he was rubbing grabbed his hand tightly, small fingers gripping the tips of his own— he called out, heart bursting out of his chest, but paused mid-yelp.

Blue.

They were the most startlingly blue eyes he has ever seen. The blue of the ocean. The blue of his weekends. The blue when the sky was high and he sits waiting for a fish to come out. The blue with crystal shine.

They watched each other for a long time, both of them unmoving. Exhaustion was clear in the boy’s face, though, because as sudden as his eyes opened did they close again. Drifting, blinking as they tried to stay open.

Long caramel lashes shut close and Keith could breathe again.

But the grip on his hand stayed.

And Keith didn’t let go.

 

 

  
Dad shook him awake in the morning, and he realised he’d fallen asleep on the floor beside their bunker bed. His dad was saying something but he was still shaking off the last images of his dream. It was the sea, miles and miles and miles of deep endless sea.

“… to check out what they can do that can help our little friend here. Meanwhile, you stay inside and keep watch on him. He might wake up very soon.”

It wasn’t anything weird… they were in the ocean after all. Of course he’d dream about it.

“You know where we keep the painkillers, he could be hurting when he wakes up. Cereals and milk on the fridge if you get hungry.”

“Okay…” He replied sleepily.

He felt a kiss on the top of his head. “Alright, be careful. ‘Be back soon.”

 

Keith shook his head frustratingly. It had been half an hour since he started coaxing the boy to eat and the other barely moved an inch. Barely made any sound. Just kept his back to him, and buried under the sheets.

He huffed, “Well if you don’t want to eat…”

Cereals sloshed inside the bowl as he started to make his way back to deck where he could watch over the docks. There were only two boats floating beside them, one of which looked like it hadn’t been used in ages.

He took a sip from the bowl as he opened the door, dejectedly chewing on the too-soaked up cereals to enjoy the usual crunch he liked.

The bunker door was creaking to a close, when a voice eked out.

“Mama…”

Keith paused.

He frowned guiltily, setting the bowl on the top of the fridge before opening the door to the bunker carefully.

Quiet sniffles emitted from the bundle huddling in the corner, curled up and shaking through the thick blankets. “Mama…”

“…hey…”

The sniffling immediately froze.

“…uhm… I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He waited for a reaction.

When none came, he tried again.

“I can fix you another bowl of cereals, if you want…?… yeah I like them crunchy too…”

Nothing.

“What’s your name? I’m- I’m Keith.”

The blankets shifted, slowly, as the boy turned to him. Slowly peeked out from the blankets.

Keith was held frozen under the stare again. The crystal blues. The ocean.

Ah, he thinks. That’s why.

“Are—” his voice came out hoarse and he cleared his throat. “Are you in pain? Do you want some painkillers?”

The boy continued staring at him.

“Can’t… can’t you understand me? Can’t you talk?”

Blue eyes blinked back innocently.

Then blinked again, eyes shimmering this time. And his eyes really looked like the water now.

“Oh. hey, hey” he approached the bed and the boy flinched back, wriggling impossibly closer to the wall.

He put his arms out in a non-threatening gesture, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The boy looked like he was going to start crying now, so Keith made to move towards the bed again. This time, feeling pleased that he didn’t recoil from him. He pat a hand awkwardly on the soft sheets. Right by his head.

It wasn’t enough though, because the sniffles started again and his face was all crunched up trying to keep it all in— so Keith took the plunge and climbed unto the bed and put an arm around to comfort the shaking figure.

“Mama… Papa…” the small voice called out and he couldn’t help being reminded of last night’s waves by that sound.

Thin arms wound up around him weakly, and Keith tensed up anxiously.

He wasn’t sure what to do about the wet air on his cheeks, the sea-salt smell of a hair tickling his nose, the soft smooth skin pressed on his own. He wasn’t really sure how to comfort someone.

But he’s familiar with those tears falling on his neck and damping the pillows.

He knows those shaking hands, clutching tightly at anything that provides comfort.

Keith knows a little something about pain.

And loosing mothers.

So he does the only thing he knows to do, the very thing his Mom knows well how to do, and put his arms around the boy and clutched him close. Hand coming up to brush soothingly at his hair, humming a tuneless song to calm him down.

And Mom really did know too well, because the sobs calmed down after a little while. The breaths evened out after a little while. And sooner than he could help himself, the boy had fallen asleep.

And lulled Keith down with him.

 

 

Getting some food into his friend— they’re friends now, weren’t they?— produced more results than he could imagine.

For one, the kid could talk.

Just talks and talks, but not a word of what he’s saying Keith could understand. But the way he talks reminded Keith of something he’s heard before…

“Soy Lance.” He was saying, with a hand tapping his chest. “L-an-ce” He kept repeating louder and louder, like upping his volume could make Keith understand.

“Oh, I see.” He remembered now, that children’s show. “You’re Lance!”

Lance bobbed his head enthusiastically, “Sí, sí! ¿Cómo te llamas?”, He said, gesturing at Keith.

“My name is Keith.” He put a hand on his chest too. “Ke-ith.”

“Keith!”

“Yes, that’s right! My name is Keith.”

He felt relieved, but didn’t know exactly what for. That they’ve managed to communicate, however roughly? That Lance had finally started talking?… Maybe relieved that he wasn’t going to be as broken as Keith thought he would be?

He felt relieved that Lance was going to be okay.

“Are you Spanish?”

Lance cocked his head to the side, like a confused dog. “Tu hablas espanol?”

“Uhm…” Keith was at a loss, the progress they’ve made suddenly rendered useless.

Just then the cabin door opened, and a man came inside. He was a muscly man, his eyes looked around the room before zeroing in on Lance, who immediately froze under the stare.

The man started talking in Spanish, approaching them. Keith stood up and put himself between the man and his friend. They talked in clipped tones, Lance eyes grew more and more frightened after every word.

His small body couldn’t have stood against the man, as he was swept aside, head knocking into a seat. He heard Lance cry out, but the world spun when he opened his eyes. He blinked blearily at the light streaming through the door. The man had Lance by his neck, carrying him forcefully out of the cabin as the boy struggled frantically against his hold.

He felt some energy come to him, something feeling close to anger, his ears burned hotly. With a mighty push, he drew himself up and stood with wobbling knees. He had to do something about that hand on his friend’s neck. He had to do something about those helpless cries coming out of his friend’s lips. He had to do something about those tears on his friend’s cheeks.

With a small cry, he ran forward. Barreling into the man’s leg and pushed with all his might. He heard a heavy weight drop, and still he clung tightly. Putting his weight unto it as he pushed forward, to the railings. He heard someone screaming his name.

The leg kicked him forward and he dropped bonelessly on the deck, tired and all the fight drained out of him.

“Keith!” A rasping voice called from somewhere beside him. “Keith!”

He could hear the other end of their boat bouncing into the dock.

He grabbed the small hand clutching him tightly by the shoulders, and pulled them to the side of the boat. They could get away to the waters. They could swim to the dock and run, there was a rental store nearby. They could…

He clamped his hand tightly on the railing and hauled himself up. Putting the hand on his to grab at the railing too. Hurry, hurry, they had to hurry.

“Keith!”

He turned around— but the ringing sound of a gunfire echoed in the air.

Keith looked down at the red blossoming right at the centre of his chest, back at the man scowling angrily with a smoking gun in his hand, to the flashing eyes of a frightened boy. His grip fell slack, and he slipped into the water.

The sea took him in a cold embrace, burying him underneath.

Somewhere in the surface, someone called to him.

A small voice, calling his name over and over.

He wanted to fight the pull of the tide, he wanted to swim back.

But the streak of red staining the blue waters made him feel so tired. It dragged his eyes close.

He wanted to say…

He searched his hazy mind for what he had wanted to say. Who he wanted to say it to.  
Whoever they were.

He had wanted to say their eyes were the prettiest things.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next time they met, they were in junior high.

He hated the new school. He’s only been in it for over an hour and already a handful of students had threatened to make his life a living hell.

He shouldn’t have let their dog near his lucky alien shirt.

Slumping deep into his chair, he waited for the inevitable to happen and got called to introduce himself in front of the class. Eyes drilled on the back of his head, he wished for that asteroid that was long over due.

“My name is Keith, and I came from Texas. Uhh— we had to move here because—”

The front door suddenly burst open and in came a gangly kid heaving huge gulps of air and looking around the room, then at Keith, then around the room again before settling in a horrified look at their teacher.

He couldn’t help following the blue orbs hypnotically. Distantly heard the crashing of waves on a shore.

Weird.

The kid got scolded— again, apparently— and walked breezily to the chair beside Keith’s. He had a hand up scratching shyly at his wind-swept hair. Like he had just gone for a walk down a beachside.

“…s-so uhm.” He started again once the teacher gestured at him. “We had to move here because my parents are working on a research for NASA.” He bit his lip. Perfect. Way to put yourself out of the target, saying your parents are huge science nerds.

But the blue-eyed boy snapped his head up in attention. Looking at Keith like he’s seeing him for the first time, and looking… impressed.

Well…

Keith tried subtly, nonchalantly, cooly, to straighten his posture.

Their teacher was still looking at him expectingly, and he stuttered unprepared. “I-I I like hippos…?”

The whole class was swept in laughter, blue-eyes loudest of them all, and couldn’t help a small shy laugh out himself.

 

 

“Hey.”

Keith looked over to his right.

He looked back behind him then back at the tan boy. “‘Hey’ me?”

Blue-eyes fixed him a dead look. “No— hey chair!” He flashed a smile at Keith’s chair. “How’s this human butt holding up for you? Or shall I say ‘holding down’?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Here’s your ‘hey’ back.”

“I’m Lance.”

He didn’t know why his gut wrenched at that.

There wasn’t really anything else to say, so he just nodded back.

“Wow. Okay, sorry, forgot you’re new ‘round here but…uhh, we humans say our name in return when a person introduces themselves. What planet were you from again?”

That impish smile, the attitude. There’s always that one kid in class…

“You can speak English.”

His own mouth said, but his head jerked back in confusion. Where did that come from? Something about this guy is throwing him off.

“Uh… yeah?” Lance watched him amusedly before resuming his nagging without skipping a beat. “Hippos, really? Cute.”

Won’t he just leave him alone, already?

“So your parents are from NASA…”

Oh here we go…

“I got to say, Keith—” Now he knows my name.

“What’s it to you?!” He snapped out harshly. Loud enough that the big kid behind Lance looked up from his notes to the both of them.

Lance drew back with a hurt look on his face. “Geez, sorry. I was just going to say your parents are so cool.”

Keith bit his lip, guiltily. He hadn’t meant to snap at Lance. Just— Nine years of bullying was more than enough.

The bell rang before he could work up the courage to apologise and Lance was gone in a flash. The kid behind him, Hunk, called out after him confusedly.

 

  
Spanish class was a fucking mess. Their ‘maestro’, as he liked to be called, wore a freakishly Comic-Conned outfit as he came to class.

Half of the students, who were Hispanic looking for easy credits, groaned in a dying fit. Apparently, Mr. Coran does it differently every year— and this year, he went extra. Extra.

Guacamole Sombrero kind of extra.

He gaped at his teacher as he entered through the door with a loud bang, colourful cape fluttering behind with a whoosh. A young woman with white hair stood outside looking like she didn’t want to entrust the students with their own teacher, massaged her temples and walked away in a defeated sigh.

Mr. Coran started spewing Spanish in rapid fire as Keith stared on, mouth still agape in shock as he turned his head. Curious what his other classmates’ reactions were.

A girl in an oversized sweater glanced back at him in mirror expression. Her eyes widening in wild glee.

“Fucking. Hell.” She mouthed.

“I. Know.” He mouthed back.

Out on front, Coran had started asking random students in Spanish and the non-Hispanic students stared back in wide-eyed wonder. Some Hispanic students, meanwhile, asked for a bite (in english. what.), and he dutifully plucked a piece from his hat, dipped in guacamole, and handed it to them with a peppy ‘Here you go’. In British accent. Like nothing. As he went on and on.

What. The fuck. Was going on with this class?!

The girl beside him gestured wildly to get his attention. She nodded at Keith’s shirt— a disco coloured chaos with a crying alien and text that says ‘Don’t be sad, Be rad’— and with a grin started pulling up the folds of her sweater.

His eyes widened for a fraction, thinking this class was crazy enough to have let an exhibitionist in, but then he saw a shirt underneath. And, anyway she wouldn’t know where his brain arms-flapping-crazy-freakout was going.

Underneath was a shirt with a cartoon cat that have six beady eyes and text in rainbow “Anti-Social.”

They looked at each other liked they just made a blood compact.

 

 

Physics was his literal hell. Not the subject, but the class. And maybe because Lance was in it.

Somebody must have written his stars wrong today, because for whatever fucking entertainment the heavenly bodies wanted to see, of all people he had to be partnered with Lance. When he was sitting in the furthest corner from Keith, like he was the plague. When he was the top of the class, did he have to be partnered with Keith.

Lance looked ready to put a funnel in his mouth at the shortest notice of irritation.

Confrontation was a nope in their table.

Conversation? Not a hot idea.

Somehow.

Somehow they worked through the experiment without talking. Hands going were the other would be needed. Equipments smoothly passed from one to another.

Fuck?

He was really glad these were all going through his head and not drifting out unfiltered through his mouth because:

Detention for cussing.  
He’d been chewing on those blue hues for a while now…

He’d seen them somewhere, maybe the same eye colour as an ad model?

What did they remind him off?

“Goddammit.”

A throat cleared behind him, and he looked up. Lance and Mr. Sendak were staring at him with matching unamused expression.

“Detention.”

 

 

 

  
They were all coming over to Keith’s house for extra credits… that none of them needs anyway. Hunk was deeply loved by the teachers, to the point of almost adopting him as the faculty son. Lance competed well with Keith which, from a son of two scientists, was a darn good compliment. And Pidge, well, she’s a genius. The academe is irrelevant.

His house was the only one that didn’t have anybody else in them. Their house hadn’t had somebody else living in them for a long time, besides Keith that is.

For what seemed like a miracle, Lance arrived earlier than their agreed time.

5:00 P.M. On the dot. Waaaay ahead of time.

They had planned to come after dinner, because lack of people in the house equals lack of dinner he could serve.

He glanced at the living room for the last time, making sure there was nothing out of place that needed last minute stashing under the sink.

Lance shifted from foot to foot. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He couldn’t quite meet Keith’s eyes. “I uh, went straight here from school. Practice was cancelled so… And going home was… nah.”

It was the first time he’d seen Lance so… unlike himself. “Problems…?”

“Sisters…you know.,” he rolled his eyes meaningfully at him.

Keith was an only child but he nodded back.

“Can I come in, maybe?”

“Oh!” He propped open the door to let him in. “Come on in.”

They stood awkwardly together by the front door.

“Uhm… Iced tea and Lay’s for dinner? Pizza won’t be coming until 9 P.M.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

Keith turned to head to the kitchen when Lance called out, “Hey! Can I uh…” He looked around curiously at the house, gesturing at the mostly empty space.

“Sure”, he said snorting. “Knock yourself out.”

He wanted nothing more than to put some space between him and weird Lance. This wan’t in the manual.

Why had he come here, of all places he could go after school?

Lance was the type to have other friends outside of his close circle. Definitely something fishy going on…

He looked around for signs of mischief. Maybe Hunk and Pidge were hiding under the bushes…

A loud yelp came from upstairs and he dropped everything to check on what happened, his thundering footsteps coming to an abrupt halt when he realised what had made the sound.

“You have a freaking telescope in your house, and you didn’t tell us?!” Lance blanched, hands held out in awe.

“No ask, no tell.”

“Pidge would be furious.”

“For five seconds, yes. Then, she’d be crawling back to my feet because she wouldn’t be able to help herself.”

“Holy shit, she'd go crazy.”

He nodded gravely. “Might need a restraining order.”

“Teach me.”

“Huh?” Off balance, again. Another wave pulling him under.

“To use this,” he tapped impatiently. “Teach me.”

Keith raised a brow at him, “You’re a space guy now? I thought you were the beach guy.”

“You’re people expert now? Thought you were the weird guy.”

What’s this? What were they doing? Somehow this didn’t feel like their usual banter. He drew back carefully, as if inspecting a dangerous play.

“You won’t see much from this early. Let’s wait until the stars come out, we all can do it together.” He said after a while.

He didn’t think he could handle being in close proximity with Lance right now.

“Oh. Right.”

There's something straining in the atmosphere, something waiting to break through.

“I quit.”

“Huh?”

“The swimming team— I quit.” His voice cracked at the last words, like a note breaking from a sad tune.

Vaguely, he could hear the sound of waves crashing. Just like his first day.

“Why?”

“We can’t—” He turned around with hunched shoulders, approached the wall and dropped against it. “We can’t afford it anymore. We can’t— we can’t afford me anymore.” He curled into himself, knees drawn to chest, arms wrapping around them.

No words came next, and Keith knew. Understands. If he said another word, he’ll break. Dreams were fragile that way.

He didn't really trust himself to know what to say in this situation, but the moment was already there and as much as he was confused as to why Lance is coming to him for his problems, he knew with this deep certainty in his bones that he’d never forgive himself if he turned away. Might even be somewhat happy, to have chanced upon it like an unaware passerby.

There was nothing much he could offer. No money, no certainty for the future.

But he could take some damn weight upon his shoulders.

“Your shoulder’s too bony.”

“Said the walking skeleton.”

“How dare.”

“You could literally impale someone with your elbows.”

“You probably kick injured puppies in your spare time.”

“Next time, don’t come to me for comfort then.”

“Pfft. Your mullet won’t make that happen, even in the next life.”

“I’d keep it in the next life, then, exclusively for you.”

“Oh, what joy. I feel honoured.”

They didn’t even notice the sun coming down until they heard Pidge and Hunk banging at the front door.

 

 

  
“Watch it.” Annoyance spat out of his tongue as his shoulder jerked back from bumping with the stranger.

Lance ditched their physics project afternoon for a girl. That he would never end up with anyway. Sure as hell their interests clash harder than political parties. Wasting everybody’s time…

A hand gripped his arm tightly and spun him around. A burly man with tattoos that screamed gangster glowered to his face, five men with the same look stood by with mirth.

“What did you say, punk?”

He knew he shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have— but this fiery heat coursed adrenaline through his veins. Dampening his usually rational thoughts.

“You got no ears too?”

White flashed through his sight, head snapping painfully as the punch landed in his cheeks. He gritted his teeth, eyes stinging from the cut on what should be a nasty bruise on his jaw.

Do I really have to deal with idiots all the time?

“You got no punch too, I see.”

The second hit landed him on the ground, head smacking on the pavement. His head rang but he could hear them snickering, “Punk.”

He was roughly lifted by his collar, head lolling back in dazed stupor. ‘Shit, warn me before you do anything dumb next time?’, he thinks to himself.

“Hey!” A voice suddenly called out, and he felt his blood chill.

“Hey!” It called again. Keith squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to not be who he thought it was. Remembering the image of a boy and a girl flirting just as he rounded the corner.

Don’t come here, don't come here, don’t come here… Please— don’t do anything stupid…

“You motherfuckers got no fucking dicks to be beating a kid?”

It didn’t even register to him if that made sense, but it’s enough to do the damage. The tone of his voice was clear enough.

“Fucker?” The voice hissed out above him, and he smacked on the pavement again. “What— is this your faggot boyfriend?”

Keith opened his eyes just in time to see Lance push roughly at the man’s shoulder. “Don’t fucking call him that.”

The man scoffed and pushed him back with just a hand. “Shit, you’re gay ass can’t even take—”

His cronies moved forward as Lance attempted to swing a weak punch. It didn’t land though, the man’s hand was already there catching his arm, and pushed him back.

None of them could have seen, could’ve cared to look— except for Keith. Who had been watching it all unfold with horror in his eyes. The sound of engines racking loudly through his skull.

He was up in a second, his head complaining but. He had to get— He had to reach him in time.

The headlights suddenly beamed at them, the grubby crew jumping back in surprise. Lance had no time to react, one foot already far down on the sidewalk. Keith waded through the gang persistently. Wheels screeched painfully in their ears.

There was a moment— during that transition. When he had a hand around Lance’s own, blue eyes almost translucent from the bright light, that he knew Lance.

Not from this time, from another time, long ago. Or maybe not time. Maybe it was also another place, not quite the world their living on.

He remembered. The ocean. The boat. His dad from another life. Lance.

But then the force of his pull turned him around, slipping on the side walk. And there was only a scream before the bright light engulfed him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was the first time that he wasn’t able to save Lance.

It was a lot of first times, really.

“I fell in love with someone.”

Keith stopped dead in his tracks and stared numbly at the back of a green parka.

“What?”

Lance realised his company was gone and looked back at Keith with something unrecognisable in his eyes. “I fell in love.”

“With whom?” He demanded, a little bit forcefully. This seemed a little too close to a conversation he’d had with Shiro when his brother decided to run away with a girl. ‘I fell in love’, he said as he shrugged and walked out.

“I can’t tell.” And he smiled the bright smile of someone that must deeply care. Something he’ll never understand.

“Even to me?”

Lance frowned at him, then grinned. “You’re my best bud, my walking partner. Especially not you. You’d take it the worst.”

He glared at him accusingly as the tan boy moved his hands out from his parka and looped an arm around Keith’s as he pushed them forward. “How would you know?”

Blue eyes stared back at him knowingly. It was annoying how he could manage that. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he said airily with his other hand waving carelessly at the cold chill of the rainy afternoon. “It’s not gonna happen.”

“Did she dump you?”

“Hah! If I had the courage to ask.”

“You haven’t asked her out?” He said incredulously, taking his arm back.

“Who said anything about a ‘she’?”

“Well— whatever! How do you even know if you hadn’t confessed?”

“I just do. I know so.”

“Bull.”

Lance shrugged helplessly. “It’s not gonna happen, Keith.”

He stopped short for a second, heart pounding at the way he said it. It was almost as if…

“You’re a baby,” He hugged his red sweater to himself as he turned around to walk again. Their neighbourhood quiet with the rain holing everyone in their homes.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said with a tight laugh.

“How long has this been anyway?”

“A year— maybe? Possibly even longer. May have been since my past life.”

Keith made a gagging sound. “Fuck, you’re so cheesy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

He studied Lance with a sidelong glance, trying to find something he can’t quite name. Giving up, he breathed a short huff through the air. “A year? What kind of an idiot wouldn’t notice for a year?”

“‘Da hell, right?” His smile was an inch too small. His laugh a couple notches too wrong.

“I guess it just means you weren’t meant for each other then?” He bit his lip. That didn’t seem like the best thing to say.

He barely heard him whisper back, “Yeah…”

His face pulled on a long look. Heartbreaks wasn’t something he wants to deal with. “So, what are you gonna do now?”

“Uhm…well.” Lance looked up to the sky, eyes drifting close as light drizzle fell on his skin. “I’d cry… eat a fuck ton garlic knots… maybe play Mario Kart. Probably just end up crying over Gumball. Wait for my next life to come.”

Man, heartbreaks make people cosmically high.

“Well, um…” he patted an awkward hand on Lance’s back. “Good luck with that.”

Lance pouted back, “What an old geezer.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have the emotional capacity to comfort you.”

“I won’t come to you next time then.”

“Next time, don’t come to me for comfort then.”

It rang so clear in his ears, he almost looked to see if someone else had said it. But no— it couldn’t have been him. It sounded like him. What the hell?

A hand pulled him back, and he turned to see that Lance had stopped walking. He stared resolutely at Keith’s hand, as if it had all the answers in the world.

“I’m gonna cry now,” he said, unsuccessfully keeping his tears in check. “I’m gonna borrow this hand, instead. That okay?”

And without waiting for a reply, he clutched Keith’s hand, holding it to his head prayer-like and sat on his heels sobbing. It was horrible. Gut wrenching as every cry forced its way out of Lance mouth like the most painful thing. His whole body shook in wracks, eyes squeezed tightly as he cried it all out.

“This sucks,” he whimpered out through his teeth. “Why can’t we end up with the one we love?”

Whoever this person was, they were lucky. To have someone cry for them, have someone truly truly love them.

They were also lucky Keith didn’t know who they were, Lance was right, he did take it the worst.

  
The doorbell rang early that morning, it was also the first time his mom had to knock on his door to wake him up.

She stood hesitantly at his door, “Keith?”

He groggily put his head up from his pillow. He’d stayed up the whole night thinking about what happened. Wondering how Lance was doing. Waiting for him to call, or something.

“The— there’s someone here for you.”

His eyes snapped open. Was it Lance?

But when he sat up and walked out his door, his mom hovered over him worriedly. There was a dangerous kind of nervousness starting to bubble up from his stomach.

Two men in police uniform stood patiently in their living room, both wearing the same grim look on their faces. One of them approached Keith and his mom stood closer to him, clutching him by his shoulders.

“Keith Kogane?”

“Yes?”

“You’re friends with Lance McClain?”

“Yeah,” he said uncertainly. What was going on?

The police looked at his partner before looking back at Keith, his heart beating faster with dread. “Lance McClain, he…”

It was suddenly too hard to breathe, the air in the room unfriendly. Everything around him didn’t make sense. How could it make sense?

Suicide?

How could he have done it? Lance wouldn’t… Not when he loves someone, not when he— he could have had a chance.

“…Wait for my next life to come…”

“I’m sorry.” They said.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what the police said next, whatever happened next. He was just aware of this gaping hole in his chest, this indescribable pain in his heart. Could only see the hurt in Lance’s face when he cried. And suddenly he understands.

The first time he fell in love, was also the first time he broke his heart.

 

 

Shiro came home a few days later. He didn’t hear him knock, if he knocked, and entered his room. He hadn’t gone out of his bed for days.

“I came as soon as I heard…”

Keith turned his face to bury under his sheets. “Not soon enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

He scoffed into his tear-stained pillow. “Sorry, sorry, everybody’s fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be angry, Keith.”

Angry? He was beyond angry. There’s nothing left in his heart to feel anger. “He killed himself for someone who didn’t even love him back.”

Silence.

His tears started to well up again. “What the hell is love worth anything for anyway?”

He tried desperately to calm his breathing, tried not to break down in front of his brother. Because Shiro knows a different kind of love, the ones that give back. The ones that thrive. It felt insulting to his face.

It was quiet for a long while, he thought Shiro finally left. When he spoke again, it was quiet and soft, “Pidge and Hunk found something from Lance’s stuff. I think you should look at it.”

Keith couldn’t care less. It was probably something dumb anyway. “Give it to the police.”

He felt something light drop beside him. “Read it.” A heavy hand gave his shoulder a squeeze, then he heard him walk out of his room.

 

 

It wasn’t anything fancy, just some old notebook its owner probably didn’t even think twice before buying. It was blue, looked worn out from use. Seemed plain, nothing on the cover to give clue about its contents.

It took Keith a couple of days before he finally pulled it out from underneath his bed. Took him all the courage to deal with this pain again.

He took a deep breath.

The writing boldly stood up, as if inked over and over. Written many times over, a lonely small fragile mess of a thing:

‘KEITH’

He couldn’t help it, his tears fell instantly. The way they always do when its about Lance. The way the memories come, unbidden. It took everything he has in him to turn the next page.

‘You kept your mullet this time, like you said. Is it stupid to feel incredibly grateful for your awful hair?”

He turned the next page.

‘We’re really super close this time.’

The pages went on, just short remarks of something that was getting harder and harder to make sense of.

‘You don’t remember me.’

He blinked at the words confusedly. How could he not?

“I remember you.” He wheezed out through his tears. Everyday. Every moment. I remember you.

‘I hate you’, said the next.

‘You’re such an idiot’

‘I try’

‘I’ll try again tomorrow’

‘You still don’t remember me’

‘I guess this is better? This time you don’t have to do anything.’

‘It’s been a year now, god you’re such an asshole.’

‘This is too lonely.’

And it went on and on. He kept mentioning the words ‘this time’, things that Keith ‘had said’. Nothing pops in his memory to fit into place.

‘Don’t you see?…’

‘I love you.’

Keith reeled at the words, completely coming at him unexpectedly. It knocked the air out of his lungs, kicked at his gut in a painful beat. Loved… him?

“A year? What kind of an idiot wouldn’t notice for a year?”

“‘Da hell, right?”

It all suddenly made sense. Their last day walking home, the painful look in his eyes. The way he trembled around Keith’s hand. The way he kept his smile as they went the rest of their way. It all fucking make sense, and it all just made things million times worse.

‘Live long and prosper, Keith! :D’

‘I want you to live your life this time’

‘Please be happy’

‘I’m sorry’

‘I’m sorry’

‘I’m sorry’

‘I’ll be going ahead then.’

He could feel it in his bones, the way his body curls over and keens in agony. The way his throat burned with every cry and every forceful intake of breath. Just to keep himself burning.

Everything hurts.

And he read through the notes, one by one. Again and again.

Picked up the broken pieces of Lance’s heart.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

This time, Keith remembers. Everything. All of it.

It took him his whole life to look for Lance, remembered him in every moment of this life. Shiro was with there with him through the whole thing. He doesn’t know what Keith was so desperately looking for in this guy, that he’d spent every waking hour searching for. But Keith had never been more glad to have a brother.

Shiro was the one who finally found him, though he didn’t have any information on Lance except that he had the bluest eyes, the tan skin, the brown wind-swept hair.

He didn’t use the name Lance. For privacy. Went by his second name, Charles, it’s what took Keith so long. He became a famous actor, and a recent discovery made him a hit in Hollywood.

Keith stood nervously in the impossibly long line as everyone buzzed around him in excited murmur. His phone pinged in his hand, and he barely had the strength to look at his screen.

His squirming insides calmed a fraction. It was Shiro. “tell me how it went later :))”

The fan behind him knocked him forward before he could reply and he scowled back. A pale man with hooded jacket anxiously backed down. Keith squinted at the guy, something about him seemed off.

He finally reached the head of the line, and blood pounded in a rush to his head. He could hear his voice. It was Lance. His Lance.

His head poke through the crowd, mirroring the other fans waiting in line. Sharing space with a couple of strangers had never been more inconvenient. Lights flashed everywhere, sounds drowning in the sea of shutters being pressed. Somewhere in the horde, he could hear reporters talking into microphones.

Suddenly, the offending bodies that blocked his sights moved away and he is assaulted with the image.

His heart sighed contentedly at the sight.

Lance looked so happy.

His blue eyes shined with so much life in them that Keith had to remember to breathe. His smile was perfect, it was wide and bright and exactly how he remembered it.

He stepped forward as the wide eyed teenager he followed after squealed happily as Lance signed a poster of his upcoming movie. He was laughing, saying something indistinctly to his fan and waved as she went away clutching the poster to her chest.

Keith watched.

As Lance, grinning delightedly, turned his head at his direction. Saw the way his eyes crept from the crowd and zeroed in on Keith. How they turned a fraction too wide, brows pinching down as if making sure of what he was seeing. Mist slowly crept into them.

His lips, Keith had never noticed it before, but his lips were the softest things he’d ever seen. They quivered like a leaf, and let out a silent sigh.

Lance remembered him.

Keith could’ve howled in delight.

Lance remembered him this time too.

He took his place in front of the table and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled shyly.

They gazed at each other longingly for a long while that people were starting to notice. He wants to reach out to Lance, he wanted to— he just wanted to touch him. Seal the moment.

“Where do you want it?”

“Huh?” He blurted out dumbly.

Lance laughed and wagged his pen in front of him. “Where do I sign?”

“Oh. Uhm.” Where? He didn’t really think of bringing anything to sign with. He was just there for the slightest chance to see the boy he loves. He brought his hand up instead. The one that seemed to comfort Lance in whichever lifetime.

There were overwhelming emotions on his eyes, the way he stared intently at Keith’s hand. Before finally taking it, holding it like it was his most precious thing. Flitted through his fingers with light caresses.

Keith felt like he was drowning.

He couldn’t help thinking that the pen took a little too long in scribbling a signature on a hand. But he was glad, every moment of it he was soaring.

Lance looked at his print on Keith’s hand lovingly, a small smile painting his features in dazzling blue. He looked up at Keith and his smile grew.

He signed with ‘Lance’. Not his stage name, Charles.

It couldn’t have lasted long, somewhere deep in their hearts, they knew. It wasn’t going to last for long.

There was a sudden noise behind him, pulling them out of their trance like space. The man after him in line pulled a shiny black metal from his hoodie, started yelling at everyone. People started screaming, pushed to get away.

Only a matter of time, before…

He looked back at Lance desperately, as Lance stared frozen at the man waving his gun out.

“Lance, Lance, look at me—” And blue eyes snapped at him, something registering into them.

“No! Keith, don’t— please, don’t! This time, don’t,” he pleaded with a frantic shake of his head.

He meant to say something back, meant to brush away the hair marring his face, kiss away the worry in his brows, do a thousand things he wanted done.

But the bullet had already torn his side, inches too close to its actual target. He was jerked forward unto the table but he pushed himself upright, determined to keep the trajectories on him and not Lance. His body bucked with the onslaught of bullets.

His vision darkened, blood filling his lungs and forcing out of his mouth.

Time wasn’t enough for them, but Keith was enough distraction for security to get to the man and shove him down to the floor, enough time for Lance’s bodyguards to come between the scene. Pulled him away safely, as he screamed for Keith.

Gravity pulled him down to the ground, head lolling to the direction of Lance’s voice.

It’s not fair.

He couldn’t say ‘I love you’ back this time either.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

”You’re too heroic.” He said to Lance in the dessert.

His partner clutched his rifle closer, grinned in reply. “We’re soldiers, aren’t we the heroes?”

He turned back disgustingly at the ruined city, the empty houses decimated to a rubble. The pitiful groan of fallen soldiers in their makeshift barricade.

There were no heroes or villains here. Jut death. Just humans squabbling over their own versions of truth.

“War is never noble.”

Lance laughed heartily, something that didn’t fit in the sullen desserts. “I dare you to say that when someone’s holding a grenade to your face.”

Keith chuckled, despite himself. He drew his knife out, studying his reflection. Wondered. Was it all worth fighting for?

Somehow he couldn’t stop feeling like there’s something else humans could have done. A different equation nobody bothered to try. Something they all stubbornly ignored.

“Wars are never noble, but people could be. An action could be. Just one is enough.”

They both watched the sun go down. Huddled together on their watch. Desserts were cold at nights after all.

Keith nodded to Lance before Hunk and Shiro relieved them from their duties. “You’re right. Just one is enough.”

 

 

  
He clutched Lance’s elbows tightly. “Don’t.”

Firelight danced in his eyes, turning them to murky waters. “Someone has to. Just leave me.”

Keith doesn't want to hear this right now, there’s only so much sorrow he could take for one night. “We have to go back to camp, Shiro’s orders.” He turned his back resolutely, dragging them back to safety cover.

“I’m sorry,” The arm wriggled forcefully out of his hand. “There are people in there.”

“Not ours! Not us!” He snapped at him furiously.

Lance turned around at the collapsing building, the structure of it giving up after the bomb dropped on most of it. They could hear screaming from underneath the burning debris.

He took something out of his shirt, handed it to Keith with a meaningful stare.

Keith shook his head, pushing the dog tag back at Lance. “No,” he reached for his knife and pulled it out, pointing it at Lance. “No you don’t.”

A wet laugh spluttered out of his partner, a single tear sliding out of his crinkling eyes. It was hot poker to his chest. “I gave that to you for your birthday, asshole.”

“You’re disobeying orders.”

“You can’t do it, Keith. Not to me.”

His eyes lowered down to his knife, glinting in the orange light. He knows it too.

“You’re right,” he said bitterly drawing it down. Before catching Lance unaware, and slamming the handle to his head.

He immediately put an arm around the buckling weight. He looked for a safe spot under the rubbles, called for an extraction from the team. The dog tag in his hands clinked in mocking.

”You’re too heroic.”

He put the dog tag back around Lance’s neck, this time partnered with his.

“I’m sorry,” he pressed a kiss to Lance forehead. Smelled the ever present sea breeze in his hair.

Then he turned back, to the burning rubble. To the humans his lover desperately tries to save. He wondered again, wondered if he’d ever understand.

Why people were worth dying for.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lance looked like he was in pain, his eyelids squeezed shut but his grip on Keith's shoulders tightened, and Keith gritted his teeth. Pushed slowly forward. Slowly, carefully, slid into the wet heat.

Moans erupted from his throat, deep and wanton.

“Oh,” perfect line of tan neck stretching back. “Oh, Keith.”

He put a hand to the back of Lance's head, pressed his hair back in a soothing gesture. Lance trembled all over him and Keith swallowed his own groan.

Lance had insisted they do it, despite however sickly he’d been getting. However much it took for him to do it. He said he wanted to, do this for Keith. He argued that Lance didn’t have to, knowing how taxing it could be for his already weak body, but Lance insisted.

And Keith really couldn’t deny himself any further.

He bucked his hips again, watching any sign of discomfort in Lance’s face. His brows were pinched low, teeth grazing on his lips, his thighs squeezed over Keith’s, legs clamping around his waist.

“Okay?” he panted. Lance put an arm around his neck and clutched him tightly. “Lance?”

“Yes, yes.” Lance moaned into his mouth, air breathy. “Ah, yes.”

They kissed deeply, every inch of space between them unbearable.

“Keith,” His tight walls contracted around Keith. His voice sultry, and a quivering thing. “Keith, go on. Go on, please.”

And he pleaded on and on, and Keith delivered. Winced out a curse and dropped Lance carefully back on the mattress. He braced an arm over their heads, not wanting to put his weight on Lance.

He bit softly at Lance’s lips, ate at the sounds that came out from there. He started moving in and out, as his mouth hung open. Studying every little thing on Lance’s face, imprinting it so he remembered when he closed his eyes.

So he could keep the image with him.

Lance fingers started digging on his shoulder’s, “Keith, more. It’s okay, I can take it. Please.”

His eyes stung with unbidden tears, sobbing out Lance’s name as he fucked him deeper, buried into his scent deeper. He doesn’t want it to end. He never wanted it to end.

“Shhh,” Lance’s smooth voice wrapped around him like cool air. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he says even though his words crack with heavy emotion. “Just have me however you want, it’s okay.”

He bucked his hips frantically into Lance, almost shoving them violently to the headboard. He called his name again and again. Kissed every surface of skin he could find on Lance.

Lance reached a hand out and Keith took it in his, placed it over his own cheeks where it stayed, clutched at Keith as he moved in time with each thrust.

He placed a kiss to Lance’s eyelids. Wished that he could see those blue eyes again, missed how they could see into his very soul. His sickness already took that away, and now it’s taking Lance too.

He moaned helplessly unto Lance’s neck, fucked into him in reckless abandon, wanting to lose himself in the waves and never come back. He never wanted anyone so badly.

He choked out Lance’s name one more time, as his orgasm ripped through him. Cleared out any coherent thought but the presence of the boy beneath him. As he fell asleep crying into his arms, he could hear the lulling waves of the ocean. Soothing whispers, and muffled cries.

 

 

This time, Lance died the way he always wanted to, surrounded by family and friends. There was laughter as much as there was sorrow.

In his last moments, he asked to be alone with Keith. They didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Just held each other close.

He was so quiet, Keith thought he must’ve… but suddenly he asked, “Keith?”

“Do you ever regret knowing me?”

He took a sharp intake of breath. “No! Of course not.”

Keith felt a smile pressed against his cheeks. “Thank you.”

The steady beeps in the room slowed down.

“You?”

“I’d loose my heart for you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They’d been fighting for hours now, exhaustion was clear in all their faces. So when their explosives finally went off and Allura called for them to go back to the castle, he couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Pidge is with me,” Hunk said in into the comm.

A resounding roar shook the sandy ground beneath him, the waves crashed more forcefully on the shore as the yellow lion broke through the water and sped up to the faded sight of the castle in the distance.

He stopped and looked back as Lance emerged from the dense forestry of one of the thousand islands in the planet, a concentrated look on his face as he shot continuously into the thick growth of crimson trees.

Keith jogged forward to Lance’s side, putting a hand to his shoulder and swinging him behind.

“Go!”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

“I’ll keep them distracted, get to the Red Lion!”

He heard a frustrated growl of annoyance before the splashing footsteps went into the water. He drew his sword up, waiting for the remainder of the Galran troops came rushing out of the forest.

The first one came with a snarl in his teeth and Keith sliced through him, easily. Then one came after the other. He let himself loose under the adrenaline of the fight. He hacked, on and on as the Galra came upon him and surrounded him.

He gritted his teeth as he started losing hope but forced himself to push through. There was no way he was getting any of them on Lance.

The exhaustion started to make serious toll on him, their attacks hitting home more and more. A galra swung at him from behind and he cursed, swinging too late—

But the galra was already gone, dropped to the ground with a sizzling hole to his chest.

“I though I told you to go to Red!”

Lance didn’t look at him as he shot another target down, aimed at another. “And when did I ever listen to you?”

Keith bit back the exasperation to favour hacking at the oncoming assault.

He blocked, parried, slashed through and ducked when a firing shot came from behind him. Their movements flowed smoothly, in practiced coordination. Knowing as well as the other where they should move.

Keith panted over the last Galran soldier he’d downed, slamming the sword into the metal. Somewhere behind he heard blasters firing but nothing reached him. He took his time breathing back to normal and then turned around, “Now can we go?”

Lance was keeled over on the ground, arms and knees digging into the sand. Keith’s heart started racing again, he ran to Lance side.

“Shit.” His whole front was torn up. Blood gushing out from a thousand holes in his armour. “Goddammit.”

He turned him around, laid him carefully onto his lap. “Lance.”

Lance was chuckling, blinking up to stare at something unseeable. “Fuck, not again.”

His eyes closed, and Keith slapped him awake. “No, no, no, no. No! I won’t let you. Not this time!”

“Keith,” his blue eyes looked so bright, shimmering with tears. It mirrored the glassy waters lapping all over them. “It’s okay.”

“NO.” He nocked their foreheads together. There was still time, Red could get— get here, they could still, the pods… they could still get him to a pod… He was so tired of this, so tired of losing him, of not being with him. He was so tired of this pain.

“It’s so unfair!” Keith choked out. “All I wanted… was to save you.”

Tears started streaming out unchecked.

Lance smiled tenderly at him, struggled with every breath. “You don’t have to save me every time.”

Keith shook his head stubbornly as he clutched him close. Why can’t they— just once, why can’t they—?

“There’s no better way to go.” Lance whispered to his ear. “… you understand?”

A sob ate its way out of his mouth. He didn’t trust himself to say anything, did know the answer, so he buried his nose into Lance’s hair kissed his temples softly. A constant demand of why’s screaming through his head, clogging his throat.

“Tell me,” his voice got softer and softer, eyes dimmer. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” Keith took in a shaky breath. “I love you.” He kissed him on his lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Lance sighed one last breath, soft and gentle, a smile sat on his lips. And the words ‘I love you’.

The waves crashed all over them as Keith cried with Lance in his arms.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Keith woke up feeling something different.

He breathed in the lavender smell of their sheets, rolled over and stared at their bedroom door. It was already open, the bright light from the living room downstairs casting colourful shades on the ceiling.

It took him a few more minutes before finally pushing himself up, yawning as he padded through the carpeted floor. The bustling sounds of their mornings familiar in his ears, the strawberry scented shampoo filled the air, but everything felt… surreal.

“You guys have fun!” Lance was yelling out of their front door.

Like he does, every morning, and an exasperated voice would yell back, “We will, Pa!”

And another one, “I won’t, but I can try!”

And Lance would turn back chuckling. Keith finds himself just watching from the staircase every time. And every day it wouldn't cease to pinch at his chest.

“Oh, good, you’re up! I’m heading over to Hunk’s. Shay asked me to deliver some flowers to Allura. Do you want me to bring over something? Or get something from the grocery? I already cooked food but we might run out of—”

“Lance.”

Something in his voice must’ve sounded serious, because his husband stopped pouring coffee into his mug and looked worriedly at him. “Yeah?”

“I—”

‘I remember.’ He wanted to say. I remember how the ocean brought you to me, when we were younger. I remember you with your sun kissed skin, and your wind swept hair, and your ocean eyes. I remember the first time you fell in love with me. I fell in love with you then. I remember you were once a Hollywood star, did you like that? You looked so happy, did you enjoy that life? I remember you— so noble, so brave. You always were. I remember the first time we had sex, I never loved anything so much that it hurt. I remember how you saved me…

The faded memories came unbidden, and he stopped. Memories from different lifetimes.

He didn’t dare tempt fate this time, he couldn’t.

So he just smiled and said, “I love you.”

“… you understand?”

The sound of waves, the salty breeze.

Lance smiled sweetly, approached him slowly and kissed him.

Keith felt everything fit into place, all of it making sense. He wanted to scream in joy, wanted to profess his love over and over again. Just wanted to drown in the waters, just wanted to loose his heart to Lance.

He remembered himself, sometime, long ago. He had asked:

_“What the hell is love worth anything for anyway?”_

This time, he understands.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So my brain had angst to give, and I had to deliver??? like bitch i have an actual life and u wanna burden me with these thoughts at 3am??? bitch?
> 
> aahhhhhh, the sweet sweet release of words… lol my last fic was literally about dicks and now there’s this monstrosity.
> 
> i hope y’all liked it, though. appreciate comments, bluhrbluhr… scream at me or yell your favourite death, whatever. *O*
> 
> COUPLE MORE THINGS:  
> i realised that most of my works had been fluff and crack so far, but i’ve got a couple of angst that i haven’t posted because.  
> so, eh, they’ll just come round. i think there’s something about kids, and breaking keith’s credit card, prison breaks,
> 
> AND!!  
> i’m continuing the “Love Is Like A Potato” with a multi chapter… so wiiiieee, that’s the one w/ killer metaphors lance and beautiful sexy killing machine galra keith, check it out or something  
> (i dunno how to place links, heh)
> 
> get schwifty!


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